Time
by J.Gabrielle
Summary: I sped up the production of this fic. It's generally the progression of Jack and Ianto's relationship till Ianto's death. NOT based on the terrible events of CoE. This is how I would've loved it to be. T for later chapters
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I was working on this as a sort of side project that I intended to post after I was done with the 'Forgotten' fic. But then it came to my attention that Ianto has been killed off the show. So here it is, my sorta tribute to Janto. My friends are looking at me funny because I just started wailing after a friend from the UK emailed me and told me about what had transpired in the last episode of Children of Earth. You can say this was how I wished to see it end, but you can never have your cake and eat it too, right? **

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything. If I did, those horrible horrible events would've never happened. No. They belong to BBC and Russell T Davies who, albeit is a brilliant made of awesome-ness man, is going to be bombarded with tones of angry Janto fangirl mail.**

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_**~"Time goes by so fast, people go in and out of your life. You must never miss the opportunity to tell these people how much they mean to you."~**_

It was warm. It was _very _warm. Slowly opening his sleep crusted eyes, the first thing that came into his vision were the white curtains billowing in the warm breeze from the opened window. 'What time is it?' He wondered. Reaching over, he groped around till his hand came into contact with the cold metallic surface of his alarm clock.

It read 7.45.

_**7.45**_????!!!

God! If he didn't kill Jack Bloody Dashing Harkness, he was a saint. A sinless, holy standing-on-poofy-clouds, halo wearing, holier-than-thou saint. He, Ianto Jones, would've been a pope. It _was _his day off, but he was still going to kill the American. And smirking, he thought darkly, 'Probably more than once.'

Gathering whatever sheets he could, he slid off the bed whilst wincing at the suddenly burning sensation at his backside. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how that came about. The bout of love making last night had been amazing as usual. Nothing to complain about in the dabbling done there. At first he didn't notice it, but when he stepped outside of the room, he saw that his apartment was void of any other life forms save for himself. Jack was gone again. As usual. Ianto couldn't help the tinge of annoyance that crept into his features and furrowed his brow. As of late, Jack had been doing more and more of that-leaving without telling him, never staying the night anymore, and of course being the 'understanding' boyfriend that he was, Ianto uttered not a word.

"Just wish he'd say something though." He whispered glumly into the silence of the morning. Looking around, he saw that in their throes of passion, they'd managed to upturn the pot of lily Rhiannon had given to him in the corner, upsetted the magazine rack, crumpled the rug and thrown almost all the pillows formerly residing on the sofa onto the floor and beyond. It looked like a small tornado had just whirled through and left the mess in its wake. Sighing defeatedly, he muttered, "Might as well."

An hour later saw him standing in an almost immaculate apartment. Some of the stains (he seriously didn't want to know) on odd areas of the wall were like hell to remove. Ianto made a mental note for new wallpapers. The lily had been rescued, which probably was a good thing because Rhiannon would give him hell if it died. After slipping the last of the magazines into the pockets, he found that he was actually hungry. A search through his pantry confirmed him of his need to do some grocery shopping for himself, instead of the Hub which needed a constant stream of food. The scour through the refrigerator had yielded the ever dubious contents of a Tupperware container.

His stove still worked. That, at least was some small miracle. Plonking into the pan some of the almost-due spam, he whistled a tune he thought he'd heard once. Ianto was beginning to think that today won't be so bad after all when there came the sound of his doorknob being rattled. "Funny. I don't think I was expecting anyone." He turned off the stove and shouted, "Coming!"

And there he was in all his glory. The man he was so adamant about slaughtering earlier on, stood there with gloriously messed up hair and a megawatt smile moulded perfectly onto his slightly freckled features. Giving him an appraising once over, his smirk grew wider as he crossed the threshold to plant a smouldering kiss on the Welshmen's lips before he could even whimper. Pulling apart, he casually breezed past into the apartment.

"What's cooking?"

Pursing his lips so tightly, it was a miracle that he even got the word out, "Spam." 'And you're not having any!' He wanted to add.

"Ooo! Delish! Can I have some? Coffee too?" The Torchwood leader asked, full of childish enthusiasm. Ianto shrugged in reply and proceeded to prepare the things that he'd asked of him. "Yan?" He said after a little pause.

"Hrmm?" The cook was concentrating on flipping the slice of meat.

"Here." That simple statement caught his attention. Looking over, he saw that Jack had paced a red velvet box on the counter top. Placing the plate of meat in front of his boss/lover, he picked it up gingerly in his hand. Jack was practically beaming as he opened the box slowly. It was a ring. It sat snugly between dark red cushions. It was simply designed white gold band with two streaks of red paralleling each other on the surface. Turning it over, Ianto caught a glimpse of a diamond on the underbelly of the ring.

"It's what you mean to me. That diamond." He couldn't help but turn away in slight embarrassment at those words. He knows _exactly _what he means to Jack Harkness.

"What is it for anyways? You know perfectly well that I don't do accessories."

The head of Torchwood Three smiled and said in a low voice, "But you'll wear it if I asked you to, right?"

The younger man couldn't stop the smile that crept across his features when blue eyes met his and glinted as he picked it out of its bed and slipped it onto his left ring finger. "You could've just given me a Claddagh, you know? Then I can alternate the meaning of my ring on the whim of my moods." He caught a sight of Jack smirking. "What? It's _true_. You infuriate me."

"Really?"

"Really. Infuriating Jack. That's exactly what you are."

Suddenly, the immortal grabbed him in for a kiss. This was unlike the kiss they'd shared earlier on. While the first kiss had been driven by sight, this one was a slow dance that was all too familiar. "If I'm infuriating, then you're _exciting_." Ianto only smiled as they laid their foreheads together. It was moments like these, moments where Jack showed a side that the others will never get to see. In these moments when it was all about him and Jack and all that transpired between them.

'_Say it! Say it! You can say it!'_

'No... I can't.' The voice in him burst out as Jack took him in for another languishing kiss.

'_You have to! You do feel the same right? Then say it!!'_

"J-Jack, I..." He gasped when they broke apart for air. "I-I..."

A puzzled look dawned upon the Captain. "What? Is there something wrong?" Running his hand through Ianto's hair, he smiled softly. "Tell me."

'I'm sorry. I can't. I'm so sorry.'

Reciprocating the smile, he stroked his cheek, "No. It's nothing." Intertwining his hand in Jack's, the last thought Ianto had for a while was that whatever he wanted to say could wait for tomorrow.

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**J: The quote was something I picked up off the net. If anyone knows whose is it, please let me know. The original one that I've written was my usual tragedy angst stuff. I'm veering in a different direction for this one with only a smatter of tragedy on this one. Was okay? Clicky the button below to let me know. Remember; Write a review, feed a plot bunny.**


	2. Chapter 2

"_**You can't change the past, but you can ruin the present by worrying about the future"**_

She was beautiful, he had to admit. Pretty blonde curls cropped around her heart shaped face; brilliant doe-like green eyes a stark contrast against her porcelain skin. She had just seen a Weevil maul her boyfriend right in front of her. She probably would've suffered the same fate if they hadn't arrived sooner. "Probably scared the living daylights out of her." He muttered sullenly to himself. Still, why did he have to bring her back, tonight of all nights? Why tonight when tonight was their first anniversary of moving in together?

"Ianto!" Jack called from the living room. When he went to answer his call, he saw that Jack was slipping into his great coat and she was pulling a scarf around her neck. "I'm going out. Won't be back. So you don't have to wait up okay?" With that, he smiled and placed a hand at the small of her back and guided her out the door. Just like that. And he wouldn't know that Ianto had had lit a hundred candles in their room, he wouldn't see the chocolates that he'd prepared by hand for him, wouldn't get to feel the newly bought Egyptian silk sheets that was bought for the occasion.

'Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid 51st century Captain Jack Harkness! Bloody arrogant bastard fucking brainless id-'

Long pale fingers gripping the plate he was washing must've been stronger than he thought, or the plate must've been extremely fragile because it broke. Ianto felt absolutely nothing as the blood forced their way out of the open floodgates and dripped into the sink, staining the soap suds a bright pink. Acting on auto-pilot, he grabbed a kitchen towel and wrapped it around his injured hand. Wincing as he moved to the spare back room, he held it close to his chest. Rummaging thru the dresser, his hand came into contact with the thing he was looking for. A long rectangular box filled with vials containing liquids the colours of the rainbow, syringes, and all the basic first-aid amenities. "Thanks Owen." He said quietly.

The amount of morphine that he'd administered to himself might've been a slight overdose, but what the hell did he care? Knowing that the effects would probably start to sink in soon, Ianto took a deep breath and released a ready threaded fish hook from its sterile packet. Waiting a little longer for the blood to stop, it was in times like these that he wishes the already dead, dead team medic was here. Sure. The bastard would probably give him hell. But Ianto knows that that man is capable of caring for another human being. And the sarcasm is merely a mask.

He grimaced when the point of the hook punctured his skin. He feels nothing of course, but tingling sensation. Keeping the bloody kitchen towel under his injured hand, he trudged through the rapidly gathering fog of his mind. The phone rang, but he made no move to answer the call, letting it through to voicemail instead. "Hello, you've reached Ianto Jones. I'm not available at the moment, so please leave a message after the beep." He heard the tone and stopped in his ministrations when Jack's voice flooded through the dark room. "Yan? Is everything okay? How come you're not picking up? Are you mad about something? Anyways, am at the cafe we love going to. Lexi loves it here so she's calmed down more." Ianto gave the hook an extra tug. "I'm bringing some cakes back, so forget about not wait-" The messaged cut off. For his part, Ianto was glad he didn't have to hear the rest of the message. The fog was chasing deeper into his consciousness. 'Not yet.' He willed himself as he set off to complete his work.

Lighting a match, he threw it into the metal bin he'd kept in the corner. Lisa had bought the bin while they were still together in London. When she was still... _Alive_. The last word still brings a knife to his gut. Though he knows well that there was nothing that could be done, he could never stem that old feeling. Groggily turning around, Ianto noticed that the dishes were still half washed and the kitchen was a mess. There was a blood trail on the wood floors that would be a bitch to remove it was left there. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the apron from the hook, tuck his in his right arm so that the apron acted as a sort of protection from wetness and movement, and swiped another dishcloth from the drawer. It required some effort on his part, but he managed to clean up the stains- most of it anyways. Ianto praised the heavens for the brilliant invention that was the dishwasher.

The happy juice was beginning to take its' root in Ianto. Setting the washer, he barely managed to stumble back to the bedroom with all the decorations that served as an unwanted reminder. Untying the apron as it was getting uncomfortable, he used his good arm to swipe off the pesky petals that littered the bed and crawled on top of it fully dressed.

He was awoken twice. First was the sound of hushed voices and giggles, so high pitched that he felt the hairs of his nape rise. The next was a scream from the kitchen. It was rather bright then. 'Must've forgotten the towel.' He mused sleepily. The next thing he knew, Jack was kneeling on the side of the bed shaking him awake, calling his name.

"Whaddya whan?" Ianto slurred, turning over his other side only to be jolted further into the realms of the waking by the burst of fire enveloping his hand. "Shit... Fuck..." Cussing, he squeezed his eyes in the pain.

Ianto could sense the panicked edge in his voice when he asked, "Are you okay?" Funny. Jack Harkness never panicked. Ever. Putting it aside to his imagination, he swung his legs over the corner of the bed, only to be caught by the older man later in his arms. "How much did you give yourself?" Was probably the only part of his speech that Ianto caught because the next thing he knew, the fog had had him in its embrace again.

When he finally came around, the room was a washed in brilliant gold light. It was dusk and it looked beautiful. Lying there, he admired the rapidly fading light, drinking in the sereneness of the silence. "'Bout time you woke up." A voice said from the doorway. He didn't have to look to know that Jack was standing there with his arms crossed, with a deep stoic expression on his face that reeked of disapproval.

"Sorry." Ianto said softly. Rolling to his side, he managed to prop himself up to a sitting position.

"Wanna tell me what happened?"

"If I said 'No'?" Ianto got up unsteadily and groped his way towards the bathroom. He knew it was futile. When Jack was in this mode, he was an ass. And he knew it. He was going to get what he wanted from his prey. Sighing dejectedly, he stopped mid-grope and said quickly. "It was nothing. I gripped a plate too hard and it broke, that's all." Plastering a smile, he continued. "You know those plates. Fragile as eggshells."

Jack, for his part didn't utter anything. Instead he crossed the room in his great strides and gathered the younger man in his arms. "I wish you'd talk to me Yan." He whispered. "It's like I don't know you anymore."

"You still know me Jack." Ianto's lips were set into a hard line. "I havn't changed that much."

The Captain didn't say anything, only released his hold a little. "I know Yan. I know that yesterday was our anniversary. If-"

"You knew and yet you chose to flaunt your promiscuity in front of me? On that night of all nights?" The Welshman felt his blood run cold. Breaking out of the embrace, he spat out venomously. "Am I that easy to forget? Is it that it? Are you _tired _of me already??" Laughing mirthlessly, "I guess you are, aren't you? Is she the next one? Is she the next slut in your bed? Are you going to replace me now?" Turning away, he said softly, "You can't to stand it watching me grow older as the days pass while you stay the same. You hate it don't you?"

Jack made a move to touch him, only to have Ianto forcefully pushed away. "Get out." His voice trembled slightly with the anger he was barely concealing.

"Yan-"

"GET OUT!"

Jack blinked as if he was seeing him for the first time, but nodded with his stoic mask on and turned to leave. Ianto got up and leaned against the window. The twilight sun had bruised the skies purple. He saw Jack turn a little and look up to where he was, then turned down the street to the Bay. Ianto felt like his heart was being ripped from his chest. Slowly cradling his now bleeding hand, he gave a bitter laugh. He didn't know whether the warm streams coursing down his cheeks were of pain, anger or pure sadness. But he knew one thing. It was the end.


	3. Chapter 3

"_Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity."(Henry_ _Van Dyke)_

"Granddad! Granddad!"

A little girl came hurtling down the grassy slopes, her dark plaits bounded perilously behind her. Behind her, a taller boy version of her was close at her tails.

When they approached their grandfather under the shade of a tree, she trusted her hand out for him to observe. The object of scrutiny was a knobbly silver lump that was neither metal nor stone. "My, my, what do we have here pets?" With a gentle tap, the unseeming rock-metal shivered and changed into a knobbly bit of pink quartz brilliantly glinting in the midday sun. "Oh!" The old man exclaimed. "Go on. Show it to your mother." He smiled, blue eyes crinkling up encouragingly.

As he urged them in the direction of a heavily pregnant lady with her feet propped up on throw pillows, Ianto Jones took a deep breath and got up despite the loud popping of stiff joints. At 79, he required no cane to aid his walk, nor did he suffer any other illness other than the failing sight and occasional cold. He was a silver fox. And a damn fine one at that.

Back then, after he'd curled up on the floor of the apartment, he made up his mind. Maybe it was some sort of mid-life crisis, maybe it was just the fact he was angry with Jack, fed up even. But Ianto packed his bags under 35 minutes flat with an injured hand. Pausing only to change his bandages, he left a note on the table. Casting a look around, he felt no memories reaching out, he saw nothing but bitterness and pain in its every crevice. His eyes fell on a little chrome framed picture in the shelf. It was the last picture Tosh had taken.

It had been literally moments before the Rift Monitor had started spiking up when she snapped her camera, forever capturing the image of Ianto and Jack relaxing together on the couch. Ianto remembered how he'd come across this picture after developing the final roll of film in her camera. There were so many pictures, under procedures, he destroyed them all by burning them, praying that Tosh would get them wherever she was. But he'd kept this one photo of him and Jack. He didn't know why, but he'd stowed it in his pocket and kept it. Tosh had had taken so many other pictures of them, but for some reason, this particular moment in time captured him. This time again, he kept the picture again, releasing it from its prison and stuffing it down the pocket of his jacket. Picking up his bags, letting the cabbie carry the other, he let the door swing shut with a click.

He'd had reprogrammed the satellites and tracking devices at the Hub from various computers around Cardiff. Breaking into someone's flat first, then using a computer at a Cyber Cafe, finally using a Palm Top 'borrowed' from a pimply teenager, he was grateful to Tosh's little lessons on the devices and systems of the Hub, as little as they may be. He made sure that all the resets were Jack-proof before logging off forever.

The intervening years followed saw Ianto travelling the world, always under an alias, an assumed identity, always under false pretences. The only people he kept in contact with were his sister and no one else. The lessons he'd picked up from Torchwood proved useful in many of his adventures. It wasn't easy, more often than not he found himself starving under a bridge, but it was free and liberating. And that made up for everything else. Ianto never stopped looking over his shoulder. He knew that sooner, rather than later, Jack would've worked out all the kinks in the system. But when they never came. Jack never came.

He'd met Angelique whilst on an expedition to Antarctica two years after leaving. At 19, she was one of the brightest minds of the team. Petite, with a razor pixie cut jet black hair, Ianto mapped out the tattoos on her lithe form when they fell into bed together after their third date (excursion) of the barren icy landscape. He never knew what he saw in her, but when he woke up next to her in the mornings after, it just felt right. The way she'd fit perfectly into him, the way she could smile and twist him around her finger. In her own way, there was something in her hazel eyes that reminded him of Jack. To give him credit, he was a hard man to forget. They never signed any papers, but when Jacqueline was born, Ianto gave her a Claddagh. And that was that.

Ianto returned to Cardiff once. It had been for Rhi's funeral. It had been an accident that killed her. The car had swerved off the road and right off the cliff like in the movies. She'd been the last remaining tie to Cardiff that he had and she was gone. Jacqueline was five and had accompanied him. Taking a walk down Roald Dahl Plass, he couldn't stem the flow of memories that came. He'd walked right into full view of the Hub's cameras, purposely, just to see if they could pick him out amongst the throng of holiday makers. But when no one grabbed his arm or called his name, he went up to the old worn slab that marked the invisible elevator and left the keys to the old flat on it.

To his utmost surprise, he'd seen Gwen and Rhys with their brood of girls. Jacqueline had had picked up their stray ball while they were strolling through the park. "Thab pyu." One of the girls said with a thumb in their mouth. Jacqueline smiled and handed her the ball back. Ianto couldn't help but to think that if circumstances had been different, these two girls would've been friends, if not the best of it. Gwen hadn't notice them, Ianto noted that motherhood agreed with her. She was more beautiful than his memory gave her credit to. He might not have known it, but when her girls came back with the ball, they'd told her of the very nice man and girl who gave them the ball back. Looking up, she'd seen Ianto pick up Jacqueline and walk away. Telling Rhys that she'd be right back, she'd taken off after him, sandals and all. She'd followed him right out of the park, but had lost him while he was buying a red balloon for his daughter. When she went to work the next day, she'd found the keys and slammed them on Jack's table saying furiously, "It's Ianto. He's back."

But by then, Ianto had been long gone on a flight to Australia, where Angel was working with some researchers. He made a resolve to bring Jacqueline back to Cardiff again. Looking at her, he couldn't deny that she was his daughter. She had the same light blue eyes that emitted a don't-fuck-with-me stare with the intensity to rival his own.

"Papa? Is anything the matter?" Jacqueline asked as he slowly lowered himself down into his Roman chair. At 34, she was pregnant again. Her partner, Lucy, handed him a drink and admonished the children in perfect French for picking on their food. Gweynth and Owain grinned mischievously and begun to munch away on their snack bars.

"Nothing, Jac. Just the ramblings of an old mind."

"Papa! You're not old." Smiling softly, she held his hand in hers and kissed it softly. "On the contrary. You're a silver fox."

"A damn fine one." Lucy chimed in as she sat down. Tsking her disapproval, she set about plumping the pillows at Jacqueline's feet. Ianto couldn't stop the stab of jealousy. She'd never mentioned it, but Ianto knew that Angel wanted a proper, honest to God wedding. He wanted it more than ever after Jac was born. But it was one project and another project and another project. He'd taken his mother's engagement ring when he went back to Cardiff last from the old house. He was prepared to do for Angel what he wasn't able to do for Lisa and can't do for Jack. The Welshman was all ready to sweep her off her feet into an Outback wedding when he got the news upon his arrival that the campsite had been abandoned. There were no signs of disturbance or struggle. It looked like the whole place had been deserted. They found her body a few days later, decomposing, a food for the vultures.

Right now, Jac was wearing what should've been her mother's engagement ring on a chain around her neck. The Claddagh rested next to it on the fine gold string of links. Lucy's charcoal black curls fell across her face as she took some food on the plates for Jac. She was a good lass, Lucy. The best part of all, she made Jacqueline happy. And as her father, he couldn't have been any happier. They were here out in this meadow, having a picnic to celebrate his 70th birthday in advance. The actual date of his birthday, Jacqueline was supposed to be admitted into the hospital, and that made everyone doubly excited.

"Papa?"

"Hrmm?"

"I forgot to say, but the other day there was this man who came to look for you." His daughter tucked her long black hair behind one ear. Sipping her drink, she mused. "Strange thing was that he asked if a Ianto Jones lived here."

Ianto almost choked in his wine.

"Did he…leave a name?" Ianto asked casually, letting a practiced mask slip over his features.

Jacqueline frowned, as her eyes stared into an unseen horizon. "Em. No. Why? Tad, do you know him?"

Ianto merely gazed back into his daughter's blue eyes. "I know and met many people over the years, pet." Pausing awhile to let the words take effect, he continued. "Could you describe him though?"

At this request, Jacqueline lit up and animatedly gave her father a description of the strange visitor. "He had these blue, blue eyes that were more like pinpricks of jewels than anything. Oh! And his smile…. Tad! That smile could've lit up our house for months!" Ianto raised his eyebrows bemused. It wasn't unusual to see his only child this excited about something. But to be this animated about a man…. Well, he hoped Lucy knew nought about this.

Taking a sip from his glass, he chuckled. "Then what?"

Passing him a tub of coleslaw, which he vehemently refused, she took a bite out of her cake. "Well, he left. But… He was looking at me as if he was surprised or something. Then he saw something past me, when I turned to look, he apologised and left before I could ask anything more out of him." Chewing on her food daintily just as her father had trained her to, she swallowed and continued. "When I went to see what he'd been staring at, I thought it was the picture on the mantelpiece of us all at the zoo with the kids. But then I saw the picture next to it, and it was that picture of Mum and us with the Huskies when we were in Alaska to see the Northern Lights when I was three. Remember that one? Well, I was looking at it and I saw how I look like a female version of you. Weird right?" She laughed as Lucy and the children sat down.

For years now, he'd been Ian Joneston. Father of Jacqueline Rhiona Joneston, Father-in-law to Lucy Sohier, Granddad to their children Gwenyth, Owain and the soon coming baby Toshiko. He'd had insisted on the name. When asked, he only said that she was someone who was like family to him. It was true. Over the intervening years, he'd kept a silent vigil over the Sato family. It only felt right to do so. Ianto missed Tosh, and the passing years had not lessened the pain of her loss.

They'd begun packing when the first big drops started to fall. Lucy strung a string of unintelligible French curse words that made Ianto smile and grin when he caught her eye. Jacqueline led the brood back into the car as the wind whipped her long dark curls about and flung her white dress to one side.

The children were put into bed after a nice hot shower, without dinner for none felt like it. The newly christened Changeling stone, Bob, was placed in a place of honour with the pictures on the mantelpiece. After helping Lucy with the washing up, he kissed his daughters goodnight and went to sleep himself. And that night, Ianto Jones dreamt. He dreamt of Jack on their bed in their old apartment.


	4. Chapter 4

"_We all have our time machines. Some take us back, they're called memories. Some take us forward, they're called dreams." (Jeremy Irons)_

"Hullo." The all too familiar American accent was close to his ears. Azure eyes glittered in the morning sun filtered in through the billowing curtains. Ianto was concentrating on the curtains when the voice continued bemusedly. "I have to admit. You seriously have a low taste in your dreams. This place? Of all the places you could be with me?" Ianto could hear the smirk in the other mans' voice.

"Fuck off Harkness." He seethed the last part. In his waking hours, he'd never once uttered this name, but here in his dreams… Here, all rules are abandoned. Surprisingly tonight, he found that he was younger and this dream was a ways way more vivid. The former Torchwood employee saw that the veins that had mapped themselves on the back of his hand had vanished, when touched, as had his wrinkles. "What the-?"

Jack had an answer ready. "Alien tech. This one fell through the Rift a couple of days back. Been itching to use it." He felt the air whooshed out of his lungs as the immortal flipped him so that he was on top while the younger albeit physically older man was on the bottom. "I wanted to see you, Ianto. I've waited so long for this sorta device to come to me."

'_This is just a dream. This is just the deepest depths of your desires. You have him now, just play along.' _ The thought raced through his mind as Ianto caught the flecks of gold in the other man's eyes. "Where were you all these years, Yan?" The question was accentuated with a kiss on each collar bone and a trail of soft fleeting butterfly kisses from his solar plexus, up to his Adam's apple where Jack suckled briefly before continuing his kisses north towards his softly moaning lips. "You are one hell of a butler, Ianto Jones." He murmured against unresisting lips. '_If this is a dream, I think this will be a good dream._' Was the last thought he managed to think before Jack made him scream.

"I'm waiting for this dream to end." Ianto said pointedly as he laid back against the soft pillows.

Jack propped himself on an elbow. "Give a guy a break would'ya? I really missed you." Grinning a little, he gently caressed the other man's arm. "After you left, I looked everywhere for you. Tried the satellites, immigration.. the whole nine yards. Gwen and I, we looked everywhere. When I saw the keys, I knew it had to be you. Because only you use a stopwatch keychain." Ianto looked away, blushing as Jack chuckled. Wrapping his arms to draw the slighter built man closer, he asked softly. "Were.. you happy Ianto? All these years."

It took a moment, but he answered. "Yes. I was, Jack. I never thought I could love after you, but I definitely felt something for Angel." He told the former Time Agent of how he met the French-Canadian woman who'd been barely out of her teens. He let the story flowed of how his only child came to be, of the time they were in Cardiff, and how he'd spent years looking over his shoulder waiting for Jack to find him. "I named her after you, you know? It wasn't obvious, but it was Jacqueline, coincidentally the name happened to be her grandmother's name too. And her children, Owain and Gwenyth and the incoming baby, Toshi. I guess you now where they all stemmed from."

"I never stopped you know. I never stopped loving you."

Ianto didn't had anything to reply to that sudden admission. But he found that he was only listening when his voice came out quietly, "And I, you."

Jack's blue eyes bored into his. There was no animosity in them. There was no hatred, nor anger, nor resentment. "I know why you left Yan. I never blamed you for it. Sooner or later, they all leave." He smiled sadly. "At least now, I know you were happy. Many of them never were." Cupping his cheek, Jack leaned forward and captured his lips in a gentle kiss. "I love you Ianto Jones. You have never been just a blip in time for me. Never had and never will." Pause. "I don't have much time left. The device is beginning to wear out."

It was then that Ianto felt a flowering pain in the centre of his chest. He'd spent so many years running, when the destination had been the place he was running from. "Jack… Please…I-I want to see you, in person." He didn't know where that'd came from, but it came out tumbling off his lips and Jack didn't hesitated when he asked where. His lover merely smiled and said sheepishly, "You already know." At that, Jack's lips formed a perfect 'O'. By then, the dream was starting to fade. The hard edges of Jack was beginning to shimmer in the sunlight. "Wait!" He called out as everything began to fall out of grasp. "Is this a dream? Was this all just a dream?"

The American raised an eyebrow. "But isn't it a wonderful dream?"

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**J: Sorry Sorry for the non-updated status that I'd been keeping for awhile now. Well, these two back to back chapters are my apologies… You likey em? \=) Reviews are like Turkish Delights to plot bunnies.**


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